That Day, That Sorrow
by Cakes Blargh
Summary: In the middle of nowhere, in a war-torn corner of the world, an unexpected past has come to visit Doctor Angela Ziegler in the dead of night. Mercy and 76-centric. A series of one-shot, or a story with chapters not in chronological order.
1. A Man's Distress

**That Day, That Sorrow**

* * *

 _A Man's Distress_

* * *

At night, Angela only heard silence from this war-torn corner of the world. It was one of those rare nights, where Angela wasn't downstairs working overtime and keeping tabs on her patients and monitoring their stocks and resource.

The air cold but not like the biting ice of her home country. The senior doctor liked it. She just hated the daylight as the heat can be unbearable in and out of her suit. Her suit was in the corner charging and she was lying on a thin makeshift mattress with a cotton shirt and black shorts. The locals' way of thanking her with their hospitality. Lying beneath the window, she looked up and saw the moon and stars. With hardly any city lights here, she could see more stars than she ever could.

Normally, she would be sitting on the window sill to watch and hear the night, but that was unwise in this place. Exposing her head to being shot by a gun was an incident that could happen here. Far different from the city she used to work in and attend conferences at.

The soft flapping of cloth, the curtain-door that gave her privacy in this room rustled from a breeze. The doctor sighed at that before shutting her eyes.

"Quite a place you have here, good doctor."

Mercy acted, her hand already wrapped around the blaster tucked between the wall and mattress beside her. She glared at the intruder. For someone to slip in without notifying the security she had set up in this place, the Swiss-German doctor thinned her lips.

"Easy there," the man responded, both red gloved hands raised in the air. The moonlight glinted the red visor, she saw dim blinks of light from whatever it was reading.

"You, I know you." There was a quiet accusation and a small hint of anger in her voice as Angela slowly rose up from the mattress. Terrorist, miscreant, thief, arsonist, and killer with no absolute redeeming quality. He was no McCree definitely.

"76," he introduced with both hands still raised. "You know you would be dead already. Honestly, you should be." His rough voice deep and grating, chiding her.

She motioned with her blaster for him step back towards the wall. He did, but too slowly.

"Remove that gun of yours," she demanded at the rifle on his back.

76 moved his arms only to dash forward... fast, inhumanly fast. Before she knew it, a painful grip around her wrist that wrenched her blaster of her hand. With a hateful glare, the doctor moved to kick.

The man took it like a rock, then twisted her arm. Angela gave a cry and fumed. Her eyes glanced at her staff, a few feet away, but set right beside her charging Valkyrie suit in the sacred chest

"You done?" he asked when she squirmed violently while he still squeezed her wrist.

She opened her mouth, but her blaster was pointed at her head before a sound could escape.

"What do you want?" she demanded as she felt the cold plastic-steel of her gun against her forehead.

"Answers," 76 told her then surprisingly released her and walked away, blaster in his hand.

The doctor grumbled and rubbed her wrist sorely as she lasered her eyes on his turned back.

"You are Doctor Angela Ziegler, right?" the man said and stopped in his stride, glancing back at her from over his shoulder.

She remained silent as she watched him.

The masked man leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

"We could do this all night," he told her coldly as he stood there. "I won't go away until I get what I want."

"I have no reasons-" she began.

"You do," he snarled. "You were Overwatch's top medical scientist. You brought people back from the brink of death, especially on that day when Headquarter was blown up. You would know what happened and who lived and really died on that day."

"And why should I answer to you?" she snapped.

"Reaper," he said one name.

A flash of thoughts, Angela inhaled sharply before back to glaring. "I still do not understand-"

"What happened on that day?" he interrupted.

"You know already," she said calmly. "A fight broke out between two leaders-"

"The aftermath. Tell me exactly what happened," 76 interrupted again and she inhaled deeply from frustration.

She stared long and hard at the cold visor and mask that hid much of his face. She noted the scar that ran down from his forehead. Scars were not rare, but they do tell stories, commonly those without a proper doctor nearby to treat the wound.

"Smokes," she began. "Smokes, rubble everywhere. And the dead, the dying all around," she said quietly. "Burnt corpses, ashes. If my equipment and lab weren't taken down from the explosion a lot of good people would have survived."

Morrison. It was a battlefield she never expected to happen on Overwatch's home base. She glanced down briefly, wishing to move around restlessly from the memories stirred on that day, but to expose her backs onto an enemy was unwise.

How could they've been so selfish, to drag their quarrel onto the rest of the organization. Taking down many good souls who should've been alive. Even after all these years, her anger hasn't simmered.

"I tried to save as much as possible, but how can I when I can't even find the bodies hidden amongst the rubble," Angela continued quietly.

"Except for one," 76 added.

"What do you mean?" she said with annoyance laced in her tone.

"Try to remember. A particular body, a patient vanishing under your care, perhaps?" the Soldier went on.

Ashes. Smokes and ashes. A body recovered from the rubble that was burnt so bad, she would've thought it was a hopeless case. And that took a lot for a doctor like Angela Ziegler to admit a soul was too late. But he was alive. Before she could rebuild, she had to stabilize the body from slipping. But with such little equipment, and no lab and limited resource, Angela had to do a patch-up job of healing the cells and keeping them alive even if they were far too damaged. As a temporary solution.

Except it didn't work out. One moment she was rushing to another patient as Athena monitored and kept their life stable, then the next there was a pile of ashes.

And the smell of decay. She knew what happened. Accelerating the body's natural healing process was all good and solid strategy, but can be backfired and speed along the process of decay instead. Especially a body that has been too wounded - too burnt. A body too exhausted and didn't have much to work with. Better to just rebuild and replace flesh, but with no equipment, there were little she could do.

Many things went wrong on that day. Overwatch Headquarters had many facilities dedicated to the other field of science. Some she knew were volatile and were behind the explosion that took all. And some research were worked on behind her back, particularly those on counteracting nanites and biotics.

She was not the only one to work on the bodies. She remembered aircraft littered the skies, taking them in. Dead ones, they claim. If she had time and her way, she would've inspected each and every one.

"Well?" The Soldier gestured with his hand.

"There was one body. One that survived even though badly burnt, to the bones," she admitted. "He didn't survive for long. Just ashes were all left of him." Angela turned to look away.

"Do you know who he is?" There was a biting anger in his voice.

 _Yes_. If her scanner wasn't wrong on that day, "Yes. Gabriel Reyes." Oh, she knew. Soldier 76 was out for vengeance. Vengeance behind the destruction of Overwatch. It was why she was here, interrogated by him.

 _Who lived and really died on that day?_

Call her an enemy or whatever, she didn't care the anger she felt from the soldier for trying to save the man who was partly at fault of the destruction.

"You would even save the man who was behind the devas-"

"He was not the only one to instigate the battlefield at our Headquarter," she snapped and turned towards the selfish vigilante. "He and Morrison were known to quarrel. But their violence!" She shook her head in fury. "They're dead now. Their payment for those they've brought down with them."

"I wouldn't think so," Soldier 76 muttered more to himself as he shuffled his feet a bit in his standing.

"What would you know?" she said sharply, now standing right in front of her suit. Just one step back and she would have her staff.

The staff was a versatile tool, it helped a person's pain tolerance, heal any fresh wounds. But the pain tolerance was the key point. Numbing the nerves could go too far, to the point one could force the muscles to relax too much. Hindering movements and reaction. If she set it up to be like that.

"Like I said, Reaper," Soldier 76 pointed out. "You know what he is. And maybe, who he is."

"A man who plays tricker tricking?"

"That's a good one." There was a huff of amusement from him.

She snapped, hand wrapped around her black caduceus staff, but she felt the intense heat of the pulse rifle instead. The staff dropped with a heavy clatter.

Her hand burns! She gave a yowl like a cat caught in a corner, her blond locks draping down her face as her body curled slightly in instinct.

"Be glad I didn't turn the safety switch off," the Soldier said with the rifle raised and pointed at her. "You should have someone behind your back, especially in a place like this. Already, the enemy is on the move, hunting down your former colleagues. And here you are, playing doctor and nurse."

There was a knock downstairs.

"Doctor Ziegler!" a thick accented middle eastern voice called out in the night. "Are you alright?" a girl called out.

Angela froze as the Soldier stared her down. Silent panic ran through her, her jaw creaked as she opened and closed mouth.

A shove to the air towards her direction from the rifle was the only motion of approval from him.

"You shouldn't be out here at night!" she called back. "Go back to your home."

"But-"

"I'm fine!" she shouted forcefully,

There was a sound of annoyance, an exhale of frustration before footsteps in the sands disappeared off into the distant.

Silence. The two stared, she noted how he was a step away from the moonlight shining on him. Not willing to show his head in the window's view. The blue of his jersey pale in the darkness as the soft sound of rustling from leather and cloth hinted his breathing.

"What more do you want from me?" she whispered and hissed.

"Leave this place, Angela," he told her softly. Heavy boots thumped as he turned and moved towards the open window. His white hair stark when it shone under the moonlight. "There's a war out there, and they need you more than you are needed here."

"No lives are equal." The doctor narrowed her eyes onto him.

Nothing. No huff. No expression she could tell nor a twitch of his body.

"Than yours worth more than any others," 76 admitted finally and raised his rifle. A gloved hand reached down to his belt.

Her blaster tossed down before her feet. She snatched it, but when she looked back up, he was gone.

"Men," she said in annoyance. McCree, Genji, even Reinhardt and Torbjorn always had that moment they want to show off. It never ends. She rolled her eyes, then glanced at her burn hand.

The redness of her pale skin receding as the biotics in her worked.

No lives were equal. Souls here were just as worth it than the souls out there. To say they were equal would justify sacrifice instead.

 _Than yours worth more than any others_.


	2. I'm Just a Soldier

**Chapter 2: I'm Just a Soldier**

* * *

 _I'm just a soldier._

* * *

"So why are we here again?" Jack asked as they sat in a fast-food American burger joint.

"Recruitment," Reyes answered curtly. "And the burgers," he added as he gazed at the menu above the counter with a smirk.

"All that salt, mmm." Jack laughed to himself at the obviously unhealthy choice of food on the menu. "We travel around the world, but we go to the same fast-food joint." He leaned against the tall white plastic table set against the window.

"Last time I tried to be adventurous, I ended up eating a volcano," Reyes grumbled in annoyance.

"Bet you shit one out."

If it was back in the fields, Reyes would have shoved him by the shoulder, but a pointed look from him was enough. Jack just grinned back at him.

"But seriously," Reyes said after a brief inhale. Back to serious mission control mode. It was his job for now since Ana was away on a mission. "We're technically here for Angela Ziegler. Tell me you've paid attention to the brief, Jack." He sighed at him.

"Doctor, Head of Surgeon of the most prominent Swiss Hospital," the official commander finished, wiping that look from his face.

"And genius," Reyes added. "The higher-ups want her. You're done ordering?" He gave him a look of impatience.

"Yeah," Jack said and tapped the table, finishing the order and the table's surface blinked back to pure white. "The Swiss sure like their easy comfort," he commented quietly.

"You could say," Reyes agreed as the drone walked pass them, delivering food for a group of family in the corner.

It wasn't a strange sight for locals to be friendly to the robots even with the Crisis still fresh on their mind. They've seen many cities that had welcomed, hated, segregated and outright refused to acknowledge the rising Omnic population.

In contrast to the familiarity and the civilians, they were the odd ones out. Wearing military uniforms with the emblem of Overwatch and their rank on the back and shoulder, not to mention the armoured gears and tech beneath their long jackets, but thankfully, Switzerland was in its winter phase.

Much of their strong military presence was covered by their uniform's long coat. Reyes though has his in black compared to Jack's, which was blue.

The original uniform had orange in it, but both of them agreed, it was an atrocious colour to wear. Especially for coat-jackets.

That colour belonged to fresh recruits and green-grass.

"Anyway," Reyes interrupted the sudden change of atmosphere. "Ziegler… won't be surprised if we approach her. In fact, she had already refused. Like she has for many other companies and organization."

A troubled frown was on Jack's face.

"We're going to convince her we're the right decision," Reyes rolled his eyes at having to explain the obvious. "At least… you will, Commander."

"Reyes, if anything I've learned about Ziegler, is that people like her take a hard time convincing. It's even more troublesome if I'm dealing with a cynical individual."

"Don't sell yourself short, Jack. You have a way with people. You get them. Something for stoic, military man like me don't." Reyes admitted with a biting tone.

"Let me quote on that."

Reyes glared back at him and he just laughed. If he was any other person, he would probably be assigned to the worst possible duty, knowing Reyes and how he handled cheeky soldiers.

"Alright, alright." Jack smiled. "Have you tried talking to her?"

When his friend hesitated, Jack narrowed his eyes at that.

"You did set up a meeting with her, right?"

"The troubles of a commander should not trouble the whole team," Reyes pointed back. "And the higher-ups weren't really specific about the arrangements made."

"You have no shame." He rolled his eyes, but with a smile on his face.

"Here are the orders, sir," said a cheerful drone when it popped between them and placed a tray onto the table. "Have a nice meal!"

The two looked at each other with a raised eyebrow before opening up their lunch.

"So where and when will we meet her?" Jack inquired after taking a bite of his burger.

Reyes was still chewing and savouring his before he gave an annoyed look at having to cut his time with his beloved burger short. "University, lecture hall. She's giving a talk to the students at three. And for God's sake, don't embarrass us, Jack."

* * *

"What is the difference between biotics and nanites?" Ziegler asked cheerfully at the full lecture hall, light beaming down on her and she squinted at that as her blonde hair shone ethereally.

The rest of the hall cast in the darkness except for the few glowing lights of students' tablets and glasses clearly surfing the digital notes she had pointed out earlier. A heavy slam in the back, the doctor briefly glanced at an awkward man in the dim darkness of the lecture hall. His footsteps thumping when he tried to quickly scoot for a seat.

Until she caught him before he did.

"You," she pointed at that man. "What is the difference between biotics and nanites?" she asked in German.

There was a quick cough and fumbling from the silhouette of the tall man who stood awkwardly out of the rows of students planted in their seat.

"Uh, biotics is a catch-all word for nanobiology," the man answered in an accented pure German dialect.

"Correct. There are many kinds of biotics out there." She smiled, pleased and turned around, pacing across the carpeted stage and resting her eyes briefly the students' face out there. "To be specific, biotics are nanites that can build synthetic biological material _on the fly_ ," she said and her hand glowed golden when she raised it for all to see.

Perhaps that will get the students from wandering off to the internet, she thought smugly when she saw a number of heads looking up from tablets.

"The difference to standard nanites is that nanites _stimulate_ the body's current cells while biotics build new ones without straining the body. It is also easily assimilated compare to nanites, which are known to be resisted as it is recognized as foreign," she continued to explain. "But there is one other important facet. What is it?" She looked around.

She knew the students already know the answer, but it was merely for the satisfaction of participation she wanted from them. Frankly, these questions were kindergarten level for university students. But for first years, and high schoolers, this was new.

"They can be cultured," a small voice spoke out from the crowd.

"Excellent!" She smiled angelically to the crowds. "That is right, they can be cultured. In our body, in fact. But it takes a certain kind of body to support natural biotics."

She then pointed at the screen where the statistic graph shined. "Recent studies have shown there are amongst us people who already have biotics in them. Some who have higher levels of concentration compare to others. Does anyone know why?"

"Doctors and medics who are in constant exposure from working with biotics," another voice chimed.

"Correct again!" She cheered. "But biotics disappear from our system, flush away like any toxin and dead cells. Even in those with constant exposure. It's why you won't get comic-book heroes with self-regeneration," she told them with a smile. "Or those silly fictions that akin biotics to radiation and virus." She laughed. "What it does can be seen as miracles. But really, you'll learn in most cases of resurrection is that the body enters a state of shutting down. The nanites prolong this so that the body does not enter the state of death. The biotics will give a push in what the body needed during the time…"

* * *

"In short, she bleeds of miracles," Reyes commented softly into his ear-com while he also listened to the lecture… as he smoked outside probably. "She, compare to any other individual, has the highest amount of biotics in her body. Not just any, but one that supports self-regeneration."

 _Biological biotic emitter._

He would have grunted if he wasn't trying to pay attention to the lecture. Already his leg was shaking and he was fidgeting compare to the young man who sat beside him.

Dammit, he wasn't meant for these long lectures and sitting in the dark. Conferences, though, he could handle.

Other than that, it did pique his attention.

Scientists had chuck everything at the wall to create self-healing soldier, and here was one woman who has done what decades of US classified programs couldn't.

At least without drawbacks of any kind.

Was it self-experimentation? The Overwatch soldier frowned. It would explain the huge amount of biotics. But a self-experimenting scientist? Then again, he was no genius. He heard many kinds of craziness out there, this one can be easily explained by science and humane reasons without resorting to, as Doctor Angela laughed, fictional scenario.

Jack mulled on these thoughts, wondering who and what kind of person Angela Ziegler was. He heard her story and history. Another child orphaned by war. He sat back in his chair while she joked with a student in front and the hall laughed before settling back to another discussion.

That could be a problem. Reyes said she had refused every corporation and organization out there, including the military. The brief about her showed a history of her against the military the most.

But everyone had approached her as the doctor… not the girl who lost her parent, and who have come to believe the world doesn't need more military men and women like him.

Morrison blinked and sighed as the lecture went on.

Two hours went by and the light finally flashed on, the hall white and blinding. He blinked rapidly and wiped his eyes before shaking his head out of a stupor. Down the descending steps, Ziegler was already surrounded by questioning students who were excited to talk with the celebrity of medical science.

Hell, now that he realized it, Ziegler wasn't so far from the students when it comes to age as well. When she beamed, and it was often, she had that sweet smile that probably made her popular for magazine's covers and in dating pools. It was obvious, people liked her.

He waited, then finally went down when the last of the students, a girl rushing past him with a grin on her face, left with a bang on the lecture hall's door. Marching towards her, Ziegler was already packing and putting equipment into a box.

"Doctor Ziegler," he called out to her.

She looked up, though her face had lost cheerfulness in them, but he did not sense any resentment.

"Jack Morrison. Commander." He raised his bared hand as he introduced himself. "Over-"

"Overwatch," she finished for him in English, her eyes had briefly rested on the emblem on his shoulder. She mused at the fact the symbol bar striking similarity to the early 2000's symbol of peace. Perhaps it was designed like that by purpose. "I know. And my answer remains no," she said and went back to packing.

This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Jack refrained from reacting with a face and put down his hand.

"Perhaps my organization has set a wrong impression," Jack told her gently. "But at least, give a man a chance," he joked, albeit weakly.

A brief smirk from her. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time. I've got an appointment at the hospital."

He was going to strangle Reyes for not setting up a proper meeting with her.

"I, uh, a talk while we walk. I won't bother you after, promise," Jack said quickly.

A crack in the armor, Ziegler hesitated and she looked briefly up at him. He gave a reassuring smile back at her. Maybe those dimples his late ma used to talk about would win her over.

"Perhaps a talk on the way," the Swiss-German doctor admitted, but with a worried frown on her face.

* * *

If Morrison was the immature Indiana boy that he once was, he would've taken off with the doctor's box and hold it hostage in the pretence of kindness. He would then walk very slowly, dragging the conversation and keeping her to his pace using the box while he enjoyed her company. The thought did cross him as he asked, "Do you need help?" But only the dimpled smile on his face was the only crime he'd committed.

"Oh, no, no." She shook her head as she walked in a hurried manner with arms occupied by the large box rustling within. "These technically belong to the university here."

"I take it this isn't the first time you were offered by my organization to work with us?" he began as he strode alongside in the large white baroque hall of Swiss university. Angel statues and saints decorated the large pillars. The gold and white broken off by the blue-clean holograms. Probably used to be a church before the Swiss academy took it.

"No, nor will it be the last," she said with a sigh. "I have half the mind to put such meeting request in the spam filter."

Was that a joke? Or a burn to all military organizations out there?

"What do you know of Overwatch?" he asked.

She gave a brief look that he couldn't quite catch what it was.

"A military faction scrapped out of the best with probably more money an organization should have."

"You think we're taking advantage of desperate nations out there?" Jack looked at her, his smile disappearing. "We get that sometime."

"No offence, Mister Morrison," she replied. "I just don't understand how a strike-team would help a much needed peaceful negotiation."

"It's more for strategy. A good hit can make the opposition seek out other means, hopefully not another battle, but a negotiation that we all seek," Morrison answered honestly.

She frowned at that.

"But," he added, his tone serious. "I don't see ourselves as just another military force to be used and disbanded after our purpose is done. Yes, I know, most of our resources are pooled into our strike-team so they would survive another day on the frontline and emerge victorious from it. But at the end of the day, after the battle, who is going to rebuild the countries and nations broken by this war?"

Miss Ziegler slowed her pace and looked at him with a troubled face. "You speak as if this war won't last another generation," she spoke with her tone quiet.

Morrison shook his head with a firm look. "I don't believe that else I wouldn't be fighting this battle, let alone joining Overwatch. We're not just soldiers answering the call of duty, Miss Ziegler. Because the world won't be needing soldiers anymore when the end comes."

"Then what are you?" She turned and looked back at him in disbelief.

"I don't know," Morrison answered with an honest smile. "But I damn well know that we can be more." _Someone has to make it_.

It was too much, too much hope, too much belief. It spoke of no promises of a better day. Ziegler only shook her head. "I admire you, Mister Morrison. For holding such ideal and hope, but-" she inhaled.

"You've probably heard the same sales pitch anyway. _The world starts with you_. You can make a difference with _us_." Jack laughed and scratched the back of his head before his gaze rested back on her. "For what it's worth, I don't think that's true. You're the kind who can do such thing and more regardless of what corporation, organization, or hospital you work at. We could do with more people like you out there. In fact, we need you," he told her gravely.

Angela smiled at that. "You don't even know me." _Flattery gets you nowhere_.

"No one knows themselves, doctor. Until they prove it," Morrison said. An odd reminder washed down on him, he suddenly felt he was back in the frontline, having to deal with broken hopes and dreams from those too young and from those who had seen a lot. "After all, you wouldn't be here just as I wouldn't be here to fight another day," he finished softly.

But Angela was no broken youth. In her eyes, he saw a spirit that still burns bright.

* * *

"Well?" Reyes asked when he approached.

"We wait," Jack told him and looked over his shoulder, at the old church now part of the university. It struck out amongst the skyscrapers surrounding it.

The winter sky let up for a while to shine a dying light of Switzerland's evening sky.

"I'm no miracle maker, Reyes. I can't make people believe," Morrison said softly when he looked up to the skies. "They have to do that for themselves."


	3. I Have Your Back

**Chapter 3: I Have Your Back**

* * *

 _I have your back_

* * *

"It's amazing, doctor. This little thing can save so many lives," the Chinese girl chattered nervously as Angela injected the biotic into her arm. "Back then, medics had to rely on supplies and resources, like first aid kits, medicines. Now, now only the limits of the human body can stop us from saving lives," she said in awe.

"All done," Angela told her cheerfully.

"Three days, right?" She looked up at her with bright brown eyes, pulling her sleeve back over her arm.

"Three days for your body to be accustom. Then you'll be able to wield the biotics." The doctor smiled. "More training after that, of course," she added and noticed the slump on the shoulder. "Then you'll be outfitted with a Valkyrie suit and another training, and more drilling."

She shook her head at that, still as eager as ever before slipping the deep blue headscarf around her head, covering her hair.

"Thank you, doctor," she said and slipped off of the examination table.

That was the last recent candidates hand-picked to be the next First Responder out there. She sighed as she heard the door automatically hissed shut. She was alone now in her own lab. Packing the equipment, placing the needles into the sterilization chamber and the samples of blood from the candidates into the preserve, Angela then went back to her monitor, filing and reading the blood samples and the reports from the scans of each candidate.

"Healthy bunch," she murmured to herself. Of course, they would be as most were needed to be fit for the job they had chosen over a comforting life. The responsibility of carrying the biotics that Angela herself carried. These biotics that she had pioneered were designed to be easily accepted so it would not take special individuals to wield them. There was an incompatibility chance, though. Hence three days before the test. Add with the suit, medics were given an edge to combat life and death in a flurry.

Anyone could be an angel of healing and mercy.

She never thought of pioneering the field of nanobiology in this manner. It took a while to finally admit to herself, her future was here. She was not ready to change her career on the fly.

Genius, she had entered university very early on and had graduated with a doctorate in revolutionizing the field of nanobiology. She had quickly took charge of Swiss' top hospital surgery department around the age of twenty. But to quickly let all of that go…

Not even when the Commander of Overwatch himself made a sales pitch could make her ready to change her mind. In the end, she dared to believe.

Back then, she had accepted the days being in the lab and working with patients, making jobs at hospitals easier and life-threatening injuries lesser, changing procedures when she had improved and provided alternate means to treat illness and disease. Not advancing a new breed of medics out there that would apply these new methods she had a hand in creating in the field of crisis and _more_ , revolutionizing emergency response units and new scientists to continue her research and work.

Okay, perhaps some things remained the same. She was still in a lab. She was still having patients. She just never expected this future.

She smiled fondly in recall.

"Athena. Can you take off the privacy screen? I would like some light from outside," she asked the blue triangle emblem on her side monitor.

"Will do, doctor."

Light spilled into her lab, she squinted briefly before her sight settled. Turning around in her chair, she stood up and strode towards her window, looking down from her place in Overwatch's Swiss Headquarter.

She smiled softly, seeing the recruits in the field playing a game.

Eager, and determined. Time would tell if they would break when faced with the crisis the world will throw at them. A shadow fell on the green field, and she leaned onto the table that was also the window's sill. She looked up and saw a huge aircraft passing over.

"Commander Morrison called in earlier," Athena reported, seeing she had poked her head to view the outside.

"Another flock ready to face the world," she murmured, knowing he was in there and probably here to station the new agents into their new base of operation. This was just a check-up visit.

But for Morrison to _personally_ do a job that he could have easily passed down to a subordinate, he must have been _bored_. If he was here, Reyes wouldn't be far off then. Both of them often visit at the same time for old time's sake, even though there was, dare she thought about it, a rift between them.

At seeing the ship, recruits in the field had begun running to their designated area, ready to salute the commander.

Except for one.

Angela frowned, noticing Genji skulking on the roof of the other facilities below before disappearing in a green blur. He had long gotten used to his new body. Apparently, according to him, _"I had to relearn all of my… family's techniques. This body, I feel… was not quite designed to hold a dragon."_

Adjustments were made, of course. It was a far different job than any cybernization she had ever done, more discovery and planning than she had ever thought to do. She had thought heat was a problem with Genji since he truly pushed the limit of his body with his fighting style. It was certainly interesting to design the body's system and circuit to accommodate _the dragon_.

At first, she was against cybernizing him to an extent that he would become a _living weapon_. That was like dooming him to be used as a soldier for whatever Overwatch higher-ups wanted – no, a _life_ of a soldier. With a debt to repay and a vengeance he had harbored, Angela was quite sure Genji might become… unstable individual, especially in the integral moment of his life of accepting the changes of his new body. He had made occasional dark comments, and sometimes he would lash out. To her, to his _handlers_ , was the word he used to describe those who kept an eye on him.

His only explanation was, _"It feels like home…"_ And he spoke of it not in a comforting way.

For a while, the young man reminded her of Reyes. He broods, he grumbles to himself, and he was… _angry_. Perhaps even held some resentments. Once, she thought it was her that he held his anger against, now she knew better.

Back then, she had thought of asking Morrison for help, to give a talk to him. But knowing Morrison, he would doubt he could do much and Genji was her responsibility. She had tried her best to consolidate the man, but their time was cut short when he was taken back to his home for his new mission before he could even finish his obligated recruitment program. Despite expecting the worst, she was proven wrong. After he had done what Overwatch wanted from him, he left and came back different. Happier.

Of course, the only one thing that hasn't changed, that she couldn't heal. The wounds on a soul.

There was a huge _thunk_ and a flash of green, Genji waved at her as he hung upside down.

She gave a cry and almost tripped back.

"Genji Shimada," Athena cracked alive. "Do not scare the good doctor like that!"

From the way he was shaking, he was obviously laughing. The privacy screen flickered alive and blackened the outside into darkness. Athena's version of slamming the door into his face.

Mercy clutched her chest and gave a breath of prayer as a habit to calm her beating heart.

"He behaves like a boy," the AI said reprovingly.

"I wouldn't blame on him," Angela commented and her shoulders shook, tempted to laugh at the good scare the man gave her.

Yes, Genji certainly had a carefree spirit. Compared to him… Angela felt _old_. Everyone felt old when compared to Genji, yet he held more wisdom than his age could tell.

An alarm sounded from her monitor, Angela straightened up and hurried to her desk. When she answered, a face-full of black fur and then the look of panicking eyes behind an odd-fitting glasses filled her screen.

"Doctor Angela!" Winston yelled.

She leaned over and frowned when she saw him pacing left and right. "Winston, Winston!" she called him out in his panicking.

Was that the containment alarm going on in the background?

"Lena! Lena! I've…" The gorilla began as he struggled to hold it together. "Sh-she's gone!"

Lena… gone? It wasn't strange, Lena suffered from chronal dissociation that made her slip around time without no whatsoever control, but there was more to it, she sensed. Lena was often kept in a containment chamber where such occurrences of her slipping away in it were rare. When she does disappear, it was speculated she could only appear in places where she has been, but _when_ is the troublesome part as she could easily appear in 18th century London instead. This theory, though, ignores the places she _would have been_ or simply _would be_ if she didn't suffer from chronal dissociation.

Times like this Mercy was reminded what Lena feared the most.

 _"I've traveled all around the world, doctor. Have flown through many of her skies. Now, now I'm scared I'll appear in one of them."_

Her career as a pilot had turned into her worst nightmare.

"What happened?" Angela demanded.

"I… I was testing the accelerator," Winston explained in a rush. "We were prepared and everything! We lowered the powers of her chamber so we could see if the accelerator is working in a safe controlled environment a-and…"

"Then what, Winston?" Mercy said gently.

"It worked, at first. But there was still some trouble, she complained about still feeling _off_. So I was making the adjustment to her equipment right there and then."

"Then she disappeared," she finished for him softly.

Winston nodded vigorously with a look so heartbroken. Oh, Winston. Angela thought, pitying.

"I shouldn't have made adjustment while she was wearing it. I thought it was just some small calibration," he said, voice quiet now with the alarm still sounding behind him.

"It's not your fault," she told him sternly. "Athena, shut that alarm," she ordered when she turned her gaze to the emblem on the monitor. "Sweep the perimeters. She may have just… jumped in the present. It happens at times. If not… check the other parts of the world."

Let's hope she doesn't appear in places like Antarctica this time. Lena almost froze to death there if not for a team of Overwatch stationed there. Angela looked back to Winston in the monitor who looked glum and broken.

"Hey," she spoke out to him softly. "It's okay, we'll find her, Winston."

He nodded slowly at that.

* * *

"Doctor," Athena called as Angela rushed through the corridor. "I've found her."

It had only been thirty minutes since then. She was rushing towards the facility where the containment chamber and its patient had lived for few years now.

"Where?" The doctor had stopped and turned to stare at the ceiling.

"Hangar."

Mercy breathed a thank before hurrying down the halls.

Dear God, Morrison was landing there. The hangar was off-limit when a ship was coming in due to the dangerous gust the engine's ship produce.

"Have you alerted the Commander?"

"I have," Athena reported. "They are raising the ship back out."

Few halls down, the doctor stopped before a door and immediately swiped her card at an indentation in the wall. A code prompt blinked into the wall's surface and she quickly typed into it, the door slid open to reveal the emergency teleportation. Stepping through the blue portal, Mercy walked into the observation center that overlooked the hangar bay as a door hissed shut behind her.

"Where is she?" she said and rushed towards the windows where there were already a few people pressed against.

"Down in the bay," Athena answered. "Back away from the windows, there is nothing to see," the AI commanded, blackening the windows.

"But Commander Morrison-" began an Overwatch agent.

Mercy didn't hear the rest when she stepped into the elevator, immediately pressing ground level. Breathing in deeply, she watched the numbers above the door slowly descend to G.

A warning beep and a sign blinked. She growled in frustration before swiping her card and entering the override code.

When the door opened, she immediately felt the gust and loud whirring of Overwatch's mobile command center above. The ceiling opened to the clear blue skies where the large ship waited. She hurried out in the landing bay, wishing she had her wings equipped as the heavy gust pressed down on her, whipping her loose strands of her hair and clothes alive. From the long clear empty stretch of concrete, Angela saw her, Lena curled up on the floor. Unconscious?

"Lena!" she shouted and sprinted across.

There was a stirring from the ex-pilot and as if half-drunk, Mercy saw her slowly sat up. The poor girl was naked. She looked around with confusion, oblivious to her bare skin.

"Doctor Mercy?" she called out, then realized where she was before looking down at herself. Lena quickly tried to cover herself.

Mercy rushed towards her then saw… the accelerator still strapped to her chest.

Sometimes Lena disappeared without bringing her clothes. Other times when she could bring them, there was a chance she would leave them at wherever she went. No doubt, they often joke if the archaeology units would find her clothes or not. Today was obviously not the girl's day. Still, for the accelerator to be on her chest when her clothes weren't, that was a first.

The doctor slipped out of her lab coat and placed it around the poor girl, hugging her while at it and shielding her from view.

"Are you alright?" she asked the young woman who sniffed and quickly wiped a small tear that escaped in the corner.

Lena forced a smile as Mercy helped her up. "How long I've been out this time?" she asked.

"Thirty minutes," the doctor answered her gently, guiding her to the edge of the hangar bay.

"A new record!" She cheered but frowned when Angela stared at her worriedly.

"How long was it for you?" Angela asked then gave a stern glare when she noted how quickly the girl was about to come up with a white lie.

"It felt like a week." The English girl voice sounded hoarse and weak. Her short hair scruffy and unkept.

Angela smoothed it even though her efforts were in vain due the violent gust still onto them.

"It was… scary, but." She frowned and Angela noted she had breathed quite rapidly. "Different. I think Winston's accelerator helped."

"Oh?"

"I… I wanted to be here. I-" Lena struggled to describe her experience. "I walked here and I'm here!"

Control.

"Well, you're here." Angela gave a reassuring smile and a brief squeezing hug. "There's a scientist out there who's about to tear the world apart trying to find you," she told her.

Lena snorted and gave a laugh as she leaned against her, clutching her lab coat as a shield. "Winston must be so worried right now."

They entered back into a corridor, warm air washing down and blocking the cold winds of Switzerland air, the door hissing shut behind. Passing by people, Mercy gave a glare at each one of them to get a move on. If they weren't, a certain gorilla scientist with his heavy thumping growing louder and closer would.

Speaking of the devil, "Lena! Lena!" They heard his shouting down the corridor as agents, recruits and soldiers there to meet Morrison no doubt rushed out of the way.

"Harold Winston!" Athena called out in a reprimanding manner. "You do not break open emergency door for shortcuts! You promised you wouldn't if I told you."

Winston just charged in and slid to a stop at the sight of the two women.

"Lena," he said quietly before realizing what he had done. He quickly turned around, embarrassed. If a gorilla's face could turn red, then Winston would be a bright tomato.

"Hi there," Lena greeted with a smile on her face.

"I-I'm sorry," Winston said with his back still turned. "I shouldn't have done that, I mean… the experiment, I- uh."

"It's okay. There's always a next time."

Angela saw how he froze and almost turned around in a spin before straightening back and looked ahead.

"Wait! You want to do that again?" Winston said in disbelief.

"Oh, no, no!" Lena almost pulled away from her grasp in trying to grab him by the shoulder. "I mean that… I think your invention helped."

"Really?"

"I mean it. I was able to come back at my own will," she told him.

Winston glanced behind before turning forward again. "How long have you been out?"

"A week," Angela answered this time. "Also the fact she hasn't disappeared or slipping _right now_ ," she added.

Lena turned to look at her in wide-eye before staring at her own hands. "Huh, I didn't notice," she said. "I'm solid! In the present!" She gushed with excitement.

And out of her chamber.

"Best you return to the containment room just in case," the blonde doctor told her softly.

Winston grunted and nodded to the air in front in agreement, then realized what she meant. He hurried ahead with them following after.

The English ex-pilot, though act as if she hadn't heard her. She was still shaking at the fact she was standing! Here and now! Outside the containment without part of her slipping or feeling _off_. The prospect of her being outside her containment was too much.

"When will we have our next session, Winston?" Lena cheered.

Angela smirked to herself, then looked up ahead at the team of scientists hurrying down the corridor towards them with the mobile chamber. A bed pod to be exact.

"Miss Oxton, please hurry before you disappear again!" said one scientist once they arrived before them.

Lena complied without complaining, she was too busy chatting with Winston as she entered and lay down onto the mattress. "Do you think you can add more rubber material. It feels rough against my chest."

Winston kept nodding as she went on, even when the pod hissed and had shut her. Lena waved at them through the clear glass window of her mobile chamber before they rushed her off. They watched until she disappeared down the corridor.

The scientist gorilla was still standing, fixated at the distance where she disappeared off. Angela grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it. He glanced at her and she gave a smile.

"Well done," she said to him.

That broke him out of his stupor. "I've got to go. I need to do some adjustment." He hurried ahead. "And the accelerator!" he said while appearing scattered.

"It's with her."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, doctor," Winston said, turning around and grabbing her hand, shaking them vigorously to the point she was being shaken as well by his strength. "Oh, sorry," he said and backed away.

"It's alright, go on now," Angela said reassuringly and he nodded. "Before the end of next week, I want her out of the containment, Winston!"

"Yes, Miss Mercy!" he said, invigorated as he rushed down the corridor.

She laughed as she stood there in the hall. The new recruits would do well this year.

* * *

"What the hell was that circus act?!" She heard Reyes shouting.

Mercy would have hesitated in approaching the men if Reinhardt wasn't there, striding by her side.

"Don't mind him." The German knight huffed and rolled his eyes. "He gets like this sometime."

"You're telling me we've delayed landing because a buck naked girl decided to run around into a hangar bay just to fuck with the procedures!"

"Reyes, calm down." She heard Morrison gave a heavy sigh. "There's probably a reasonable explanation to this."

"I sometimes wonder why the hell you put up with these circus freaks."

"Reyes!" Morrison snapped.

Mercy entered the observation center as Reinhardt stepped in. Reyes though had entered the elevator across the room with a glowering face. His student beside him, McCree gave an apologetic look. She frowned at the older man as the door slid shut on them before her eyes rested on Overwatch's Supreme Commander who was rubbing his temple. Head Weapon Engineer Torbjorn stood behind him, giving few reassuring words to an Overwatch agent that was yelled at.

"Jack!" Reinhardt roared and spread his arms.

Morrison looked up and cracked a weak smile in greeting. The dimples on his face were more of a line now. Responsibilities and workloads had taken away much of his lighthearted manner. Overwatch's Paladin just ignored that half-assed attempt and pulled him in a bear hug.

"Reinhard-" choked Jack and rapidly slap the man on the arm.

Mercy merely smiled at the scene before giving a full blown grin.

"Torbjorn!" She rushed toward the Swedish dwarf. She hadn't seen him for months!

"If it isn't Lady Mercy herself." The engineer gave a hearty laugh and she felt his beard brushing against her skin as he did while returning the squeezing hug she gave with one solid arm. He still smelled of burning metal and soots.

"You sound like Reinhardt." She chuckled and stepped back, smiling fondly at the heavily bearded man. "How was the trip?"

"Bah! Army youths these days don't know how to handle my weapons!" Torbjorn scowled, his hand was still on hers and she wasn't going to let it go any time too soon. "One youth had the gall to open up one pulse rifle since he couldn't be bothered carrying it in a ready state. It's a crime to do that to one of my guns! It didn't help Gabriel's temper lately." The engineer shook his head in pity before he began to walk towards the elevator. "Good thing Jack mostly handled the evaluation."

She nodded as she listened, following after him and entering the elevator.

"Has something been bothering Reyes lately?" she asked concernedly once the elevator's door closed on them.

There was a heavy sigh from the stumpy man. "To both of them. There have been more argument and frosty silence lately between _them_."

"What happened?" A flicker of worry passed over her face.

"I don't know! They do this sometime and then they go drinking!" Torbjorn shrugged with the look of disgust still on his face. "But I think I know what it's about. Blackwatch."

The frown on her face had deepened.

"Morrison was asking about it since… some farce article made by that news station who likes-" Torbjorn struggled. "They call it satire or something? From what I heard, they just produce rubbish."

"What was it about?" Mercy asked as the elevator stopped and they stepped out into the corridor.

"The usual idiocy. Property damages always get someone crying foul!" He snorted.

"And they blame us for the accident," the doctor assumed. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, and they said we did it _on purpose!_ " Torbjorn sounded incredulous as they walked along the hall. "They even have those photos which showed one of us in full gear with our emblem and everything in the sight of the crime. Morrison was furious at this allegation, tore the corporation apart until they found out it was some guy who _looted_ our gear and was wearing it at the site."

If the news station hadn't blundered in the past, it will now with the rest of the world mocking it, Angela thought pityingly.

"How our gear ended up with some rebellious group is a prospect I don't want to think about." He shook his head, disgruntled. "Jack, though, has an idea… he asked what Blackwatch was doing. Gabriel was tight-lipped as usual."

"As Supreme Commander, shouldn't he be informed about what they are doing?" Mercy asked.

"No, actually," the stumpy man answered. "Jack said yes, but there… were complications. The covert-op answers to the higher-ups and take orders from them mostly."

Making Reyes Morrison's equal in this case even though he was just a Strike-Commander and still answers to him. That was probably an edge Reyes wasn't going to give up easily.

"Sometimes I wonder if they really part of Overwatch," Torbjorn commented then sighed. "You should've seen the argument, I've never seen Jack so angry before."

"Have they always been like this?"

"Sometimes. Back then, less so. Gabriel would disagree often, but he still had some decency of respect in him and for Jack. Now… now I'm not so sure."

* * *

 _"What the hell happened out there? I know you were assigned for that mission, so why wasn't this in the report!"_

 _"You were never this reckless. You took things professionally, and never let lives be endangered unless necessary. What changed?"_

 _"What's going on?"_

Jack opened his eyes and stared into the empty darkness.

"Commander?"

He remained there, lying on the bed, but knew it was a fruitless effort to fool an AI who can check his vitals and knew exactly if a person was sleeping or not.

"Your body temperature and heart rate show you're awake."

"I know, I'm just trying to go back to sleep." Morrison sighed and turned around, lying on his back. "But I doubt it," he grumbled and rise up to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Perhaps if you haven't skipped your evening meal today…" Athena reprimanded softly.

"Good suggestion, I should go and grab one now," he said drily and stood up at that.

"It's two o'clock in the morning, sir."

"Early breakfast is good for a healthy lifestyle, and help increase metabolism during sleep," he continued sarcastically and strode towards the exit in the darkness with few illuminations of metal and glass glinting guided his way. His bare feet pitter-pattered across the cold polished gray floor.

"The kitchen's drones are still charging." Meals were usually sent to him since he had the privilege not to mingle with the recruits and agents in the cafeteria.

"It's okay, there's probably some leftovers I can heat up. And I can handle some… industrial strength kitchen."

" _I'll_ make you a proper one." Athena gave up finally, knowing Jack had a bad habit putting more than it was necessary on his plate, and well, him being a Commander had probably rusted whatever long-gone kitchen duty skills he had in his military days.

"We do have a kitchen, right?"

"Yes, Commander. But it was designed for efficiency solely for the drones use."

"Who supplies the coffee machines and beverages, again?"

Athena was probably wondering if the man was delirious from his early wake-up.

"The drones do."

"We don't have janitors or cleaners, right?" Morrison recalled the fact other facilities and base of operations out there weren't exactly state of the art as Switzerland's Headquarter. "Do we make recruits do the job?"

"When it comes to upkeeping and maintaining the headquarter, that job solely falls to the drones whenever it can. Even if some task were given out as punishment, the recruits don't often do a good consistent job. It is no excuse to leave a mess around, though." There was a note of _possessiveness_ in Athena's tone. She clearly liked managing the headquarter's state, probably to do with the fact her job was mainly security here. "Your shoes, Commander. You cannot walk out wearing like _that_ ," she reminded. "Even if it's still night, it is better you keep up with appearances."

"For who?"

"Overworking staff and scientists. Recruits who don't understand the meaning of schedules. Soldiers and guards stationed at night."

He was surprised Athena didn't mention more drones since sweeping the headquarter's perimeter was up her alley.

"Alright, alright." Jack raised his hand at that and the surface of the ceiling brighten slowly.

He looked at his uniform's gears and coat, put onto a secured display. An easy distance away from the bed. The rest of his uniforms, such as the shirt and pants that he was wearing lay folded and sat beside it on a surface. No doubt placed there by Athena's drone. He grimaced at the thought of having to put some of his gears on this early as he pressed his hand against the glass surface, unlocking it. Morrison grabbed his belt and slipped into his heavy boots. A click was heard when the boot's armor locked around his leg, then he did the same with the other. He strapped his holsters next then finally stood up, rolling his shoulders.

Finally, he grabbed his guns laid by the bedside and walked out of his room.

Only for him to pause at the cause of his ire from yesterday. The red text of classification on Blackwatch's database still blinked above the black surface of his office desk with other documentation and digital paperwork in the background. Again, it surprised him that Athena didn't organize his workspace as she often did when it came to prioritizing his schedules and tasks needed to do.

Still, his eyes lingered briefly on the word _classified_.

"Commander, your meal has been prepared," Athena reported. "It's there waiting in the cafeteria."

"You're not going to send it here?"

"No."

Best he didn't push it. Besides, he was a big boy.

"Maybe running laps in the field after would do you good."

* * *

Jack listened as his phone illuminated a hologram before him. The news going on today's troubles, celebration, and gossips. Stories concerning the mishap of the broadcasting news company though remained out of media grasp.

Good, he preferred it that way. Less drama, less paperwork and less explaining to do.

He ate his dinner, breakfast meal all rolled in one while glancing occasionally at the news before him.

"Commander?" a voice called out softly from the distance.

Jack turned and blinked at the sight of McCree still in his Blackwatch's gears shuffled into his sight. Reye's favored recruit.

"You're up late, soldier," Morrison commented when he approached him then narrowed his eyes.

He immediately grabbed him by the arm and raised it up to his sight.

McCree winced but did not resist.

"What the hell is this?" Jack looked at the pathetic bandage wrapped around his wrist. Did he twist it?

"Trying to learn a trick with a revolver can be dangerous," McCree admitted sheepishly with a tilt of his head, still wearing that southern hat of his. Must have a lot of memories for him to keep it. "Sir," he added quickly.

"Go to Mercy if you want a proper patch up. Doing this to yourself would only get Reyes' temper," Jack told him strictly, letting his arm go. "What have you been up to at night?"

"Target practice," Athena answered this time.

This late? The Commander raised his eyebrow at McCree who now looked uncomfortable. "Can't sleep?"

"I can say the same about you," McCree answered, still standing.

Morrison motioned the seat beside him and McCree sat down.

"How have you been?" Jack asked.

"Good."

Still tight-lipped.

"Have there been any trouble lately?"

"Sir?" Saying Commander didn't really suit McCree, saying Jack or Morrison was too casual. Sir was by default.

Jack sighed and looked at him straight in the way. "Are there any trouble in Blackwatch lately?"

McCree gave his best poker face. "None, sir."

He stared at that before turning back to his meal in hand. "I owe Reyes an apology," he admitted, finally taking it off his chest.

"Is this about the incident in-"

Jack gave a pointed look and McCree immediately shut up. "Yes," he grumbled. "A lot of things have been on my mind. I'm afraid I've jumped the gun when it comes to _that_."

There always have been trouble in Russia. Plenty anti-Omnic resentments and to an extent, Overwatch, and for many reasons too. In some part of the world, society flourished and exist. In another, there were still war and a creeping chaos they were keeping it at bay. He lost plenty of good agents out there, in explosion, in gun fights, in riots.

It was also unsurprising for their weapons and gears to circulate around. After all, during the chaos that took many of his agents, someone was always there to pilfer the lost, but usually, they were easy to track down. Torbjorn had made sure these things don't escape his eyes. But still, he was disturbed how a legitimate piece armory ended up with some shady group.

Reyes had provided a reasonable explanation and had better judgment since he was there to assess the situation. His mission was to take down those idiots that gave his agents more trouble than they should. Until those idiots pulled that explosion stunt.

When that article came out and started to accuse, it indirectly accused Reyes even though it was mainly Overwatch that took the heat.

The investigation put a stop on that, proving Reyes' point.

Except Jack couldn't help but feel uneasy. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, he brushed his hand through his blonde hair.

"Sir?" McCree reminded him.

"I take it you're here to grab some ice for that." Jack pointed at his wrist.

"Er, yes."

"Athena," Jack ordered.

"Yes, Commander," said the AI without any further order.

"Did it ever occur to you the closest first aid kit has a cooling gel that could help your pain?" Morrison pointed out.

"The thought slipped my mind."

He smirked at that. "Go retire after this, soldier. Can't have you in this state," Jack told him sternly before reaching out to his phone and immediately shutting the news.

"Will do," McCree answered neutrally as his commander stood up then took his meal.

A floating drone bot made its way, carrying a tray with the kit. Morrison grabbed it and pass it to him before placing his plate onto the tray. Without further ado, Morrison walked off and left the troubled Blackwatch behind him.

* * *

The day after, Athena suggested a de-stressing method. Spar with the recruits. Hand-to-hand combat was a last ditch effort of self-defense, but it was a drill all agents had to go through. So he followed her advice. Reyes had stopped by and oddly volunteered to help a demonstration. Jesse probably had said something to him.

They joked in front of the recruits.

"A combat knife?" Morrison commented when Gabriel smirked and tossed the knife into the air, letting the blade glint and twirled.

"Give these monkeys some real lesson of what a close quarter fights are all about," Reyes said when he turned his cold gaze on each recruit. "Unless you rather want to use a marker pen."

White shirt and bare skins, no recruits were spared from Morrison's permanent marker. A line across the throat, a mark across the eyes, a splotch at a spot between the ribs and plenty behind backs. They made a valiant effort, but he always dealt them with a killing blow. The only marks around him were scratches on his arms and where his bones mostly took the impact, nothing near his vitals.

Reyes would have given scathing comments in front of them and give him shit later about how quality standard had fallen in recruitments. The man had sniped and harshly criticize each and every decisions he have made, but they were criticism, _valid_ criticism. Amongst all the praises, Reyes was the voice Jack admitted he listened to and again to keep him grounded.

"Fine," Jack admitted. _Only if you don't bitch after this_ , his blue eyes added.

Reyes took off the top part of his heavy gear. He tossed them to McCree who was quick to catch it, followed by his holsters and shotguns.

"I am _not_ your baggage holder," the gunslinger muttered.

"Suck it," Reyes scoffed then turned back towards Jack, immediately taking a ready stance with knife in hand.

They circled and Reyes moved with a lunge towards him.

It was unfair, the fight that happened before the recruits that day were not a standard fight one would expect in the jungle out there. It was fought between two enhanced super soldiers that moved in a blur with impossible reaction time. They barely could track the motions of Morrison ducking and dodging away from the lunges as he moved back each time.

The goal was to disarm the opponent. Reyes though took more than a couple of punches in the ribs but always managed to move away from the blows that would stun him or break the bones of his arms. Not an easy man to grab and wrestle that knife from him.

But as far as they saw, the two were equal.

"You have softened," Reyes commented bitingly as he moved quickly to the side, away from the sharp swipe.

"Maybe I have," growled the Overwatch's commander. "I think I'm going to follow Athena's advice mor-" He stepped away again when a shank towards his ribs was made.

For once, Jack was sweating and making an effort. Reyes was breathing heavily as well. There were sweats clinging onto his temple but he wasn't too tired compared to him.

Shit, office work really put him at a disadvantage.

* * *

First thing Angela did when she came over was slapped Gabriel in the face.

Then she slapped Morrison.

"Do you slap your patients like that?" Reyes drawled.

"I was going to say that," Jack murmured as he sat there with a bleeding wound above his knee. The knife still in there.

"You deserve that," Reyes said when he saw him looking at the knife.

He slowly turned and glared at the man whose lips were twitching.

"Bet those fingers of yours hurts like a bitch," Morrison jibed back at the thick cast around all four fingers of his right hand.

Reyes gave a soft kick on his wounded leg and Jack snarled from where he sat on the observation bed.

Angela immediately gave them a glowering look when she came back with a syringe in hand. "I have half the mind to leave you with just bandages," she said furiously and went to grab the knife in his leg.

She pulled it out and immediately stabbed a syringe filled with biotics in its place.

"Mother-" Jack hissed then watched at the golden glow spilled into his wounds, leaving flesh and new skin.

With Reyes, she had pulled off his cast around his fingers and gently she set the bones in them as her hand glowed. Then she tossed the cast back towards him. Reyes snatched it in mid-air.

"Get out," she said and began waving them away out of her workspace. "Go!"

They did, not willing to test Angela's patience and both stood outside her lab.

A hand was raised, Reyes turned and blinked when he looked down at the offered hand. He gave a raised eyebrow.

"Russia," Jack clipped.

"Serves you right," his friend said coldly but took his hand and gave a brief firm shook.

"What the hell happened to us, Reyes?" Jack told him quietly when he let go.

"Duties, responsibilities, and babysitting this kindergarten you have here." Reyes jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing out at the window that lined the corridor's wall.

He wasn't sure if he was pointing at the whole world or Overwatch.

"Gabriel." Jack grimaced. "Seriously?"

"What else you want me to say?"

"I know you're not a petty man."

"You really think it's still about _that_." Reyes' voice rose to a venomous point. "I told you before, I had rather it be you who lead… _us_ than whoever the top brass send. I would be blind and stupid not to admit what you've done for us. Why do you think I haven't quit?"

Senior officer, veteran and highly decorated, Reyes could have been given an equally distinguishable rank and higher if he returns back to the US military. Except he stayed instead and accepted his position as Strike-Commander, supposedly still covering and supporting his back as they both did for each other back then in the field. Some things don't change.

Jack hoped so.

"Because you're stubborn. Shit, I don't know. We're more strangers than pals lately," Jack replied back heatedly.

Reyes just raised his hands in exasperation. "What else do you want, Jack? Another praise in the chorus the world has been giving you."

Jack shook his head. Here they go again. "No, but I worry what's happening out there. Accusations have been stirring, and they always had to do with the missions Blackwatch have been given. I'm taking the heat here and trying to clean up whatever you have done."

 _I have your back, you have mine, right?_

"You and I both know they are a bunch of lies."

"Coincidental lies?"

Reyes stepped forward with an angry glare. "Do you not trust me, Commander?"

"I'm _trying_ ," Jack growled. "Give me reasons to and I won't be struggling."

 _Do your job better, for God's sake._

Reyes shook his head in disgust. So he needed to prove himself to him now! He turned around and walked off, leaving him behind. Only he stopped and paused. "Y'know, back then, I thought they were just going to give us medals and disband us after. As you had once said, Jack, the world doesn't need soldiers anymore after the crisis. Now, now I can't believe they are tolerating this shit you have here."

Reyes' footsteps stomped away as he watched on. The blonde man stood there in the corridor, his jaw set stiffly as a helpless feeling washed down him.

"Jack?"

Jack blinked and turned to stare at the worried face of Angela stepping out of her lab.

"Is everything alright?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he answered and shook his head. "I don't know, Angela."


End file.
